Scars And Kisses
by Nyarwhall
Summary: (Contains: Rape, Self harm, and possible smut and language later.) When Toris is kidnapped, Feliks starts to blame himself. (Ships: PoLiet, one sided RusLiet, and possible RusCan in later chapters.)
1. Chapter 1

Feliks sat on his couch, his legs pulled up to his chest and his fingers nervously tapping on the coffee table. His normally perfect hair was messy, as he hadn't left the house in a few days, leaving him to not bother keeping up appearances. It had been a week since his best friend (who he had happened to be in love with) had been kidnapped when the two of them had been out walking together, and it was all Feliks could think about. He reached for his phone, deciding to give the police station another call. He dialed the number and put the phone up to his ear, awaiting an answer.

"Hello?... Nothing new? Alright... Thank you anyways, good bye." He hung up and lay on his side, his eyes threatening to shed tears for what could have been the millionth time that week as he remembered the event, but he held them in, burying his face in a soft, pink pillow.

About a week ago

Feliks walked alongside Toris, holding his hand gently. It was snowing lightly, and he held a coffee in his other mittened hand. The two of them laughed quietly, making rather pointless conversation. It was particularly dark out as they walked through the park, even for a winter evening. Feliks had been trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue when it had been happened: A strong pair of arms had jerked Toris out of his reach. Feliks directed his attention to the tall man, who was wearing a long scarf. Toris struggled against his grip, with no success. The man pulled out a gun and pointed it threateningly at the blonde, who panicked and ran off, calling the police as soon as he could find a phone.

He whimpered quietly, letting his tears fall onto the fabric. He was going to tell Toris how he felt about him that day, but he supposed none of that mattered now. Now that Toris was off being tortured in who knows where...

* * *

Toris lay curled up on the unfamiliar bed, trembling. His naked body covered with small wounds and bruises. The Russian stepped away from him, smirking.

"I love you Toris." He said with an innocent giggle, waiting for a response.

Toris hesitated, "I love you too." He lied, not wanting to endure any more of this man's abuse, although he knew it would be inevitable either way. The much larger one nodded, pleased with the answer, and walked out of the room.

The brown haired man pulled himself off the sticky mattress, wincing as a sharp pain shot through him. His whole body hurt, and that wasn't helping. He slipped his clothes on, the rough fabric scraping against his broken skin. He walked out of the bedroom and lay on the floor of the hallway, too tired to find a more suitable place to rest. he covered his face and sobbed quietly, whispering his friend's name into his hands. He missed him more than anything, and he wanted to see him just one more time, to let his smaller hand hold on to his, and to hear the cheerful laughing of the excitable blonde. But it was unlikely that would ever happen.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a cold night, and Feliks was cold, but he didn't seem to mind. Or he wasn't showing that he did. He held an almost empty bottle of wine in his hands, sighing gently and staring off at random point. Feliks didn't normally drink, but due to gifts from friends and a few past parties, he had quite a few alcoholic beverages stocked in his cupboards. He had tapped into the drinks a few days ago, and though he found himself half-drunk and absent minded, he definitely wasn't feeling much better.

Tiny cuts decorated his arms, hidden under the long sleeves of a violet sweater. It had been on the monday of the third week that Feliks had started the habit.

_It's your own fault._

_You're a useless coward._

_Toris is gone because you couldn't save him._

_**Because you didn't save him.**_

The words had been repeating in his head like a broken record for the entire week, consuming every fibre of his body that disagreed with the thought and tossing them aside with his common sense.

Feliks hung his head down after taking another swig of the drink in his hands, his mind delving back to the ideas which he had constructed. He was pulled out of a particularly disturbing mental scenario by the sound of his doorbell ringing. He stared at the door with slight surprise, having not heard much noise in the past few weeks.

"What do you want?" He called rather harshly, his voice cracking.

"Feliks, you haven't been answering your phone for a while, and I was getting worried."

Feliks immediately recognized the voice as one of his friends: A petite blonde girl names Erika Vogel.

"I'm fine. Go away..."

"I'll let myself in." she muttered in response, as there was a small click of the lock on his door and she stepped in. Feliks always gave his friends keys, although he was starting not to like that idea. Erika took one look at her friend and shook her head, "Feliks, you're a mess."

"I told you to **go away**." he crossed his arms and huffed.

"I was very worried, and for good reason. Come one, I'll get you tidied up, and you can go out and enjoy yourself."

"I won't enjoy myself." He responded in annoyance.

"Could you at least pretend to have fun then?"

He nodded reluctantly, "Fine." And with that he walked off to his room to get ready.

* * *

Toris shivered, it was fucking freezing, to put it lightly. Was this place even insulated? His captor didn't seem to mind, as he was almost always dressed in a thick jacket and scarf, unless otherwise occupied. Toris was half dressed at the best of times, so that just made it worse. He was constantly hungry, being fed next to nothing, and he had dark circles under his eyes; One of them being a bruise, the other from lack of sleep. His Torso was adorned with scars and wounds of all sorts, being displayed by the twisted Russian as if it were a trophy.

"Toris my dear, will you come to my room?" he heard the stern yet naive sounding voice of his kidnapper calling him over and he got up slowly, whimpering slightly.

"Yes Ivan, I'll be there in a second."


	3. Chapter 3

Feliks knew he needed help, but he kept telling himself that he didn't deserve it. Erika's attempts to cheer him up had ended badly, with Feliks getting piss drunk and causing quite a scene at the pub they went to. As he sat alone in his room, getting over his hangover, he couldn't help but feel a bit bad for her. She was such a sweet girl, and she meant well.

_**She doesn't deserve a friend like you.**_

_Shut the fuck up._

_**I'm only speaking the truth, you don't deserve any of the friends you have.**_

_Even..._

_**Especially him. All you do is hurt them, why would they want to be around you?**_

He slammed his fist hard against the coffee table as he was assaulted by his own thoughts once again. He knew that sudden burst of anger was going to leave a bruise, but it definitely wasn't a bad alternative to his usual reaction, and after the pain started to wear off in his hand, his usual reaction didn't seem like too bad an idea. His hand fumbled for the drawer on his side table and pulled out a small pocket knife. His hand trembled as he tried to stop himself from doing it, but it wasn't like he had a choice though. He slowly brought it down to the tender skin of his arms, dragging the blade enough to draw blood. He whimpered at the pain but continued, giving himself a few more wounds before tossing the sharp object aside.

"I'm sorry about that." he whispered to himself, going to the kitchen sink to clean the cuts.

* * *

It was a risk, but Toris had to take it. Ivan was upstairs, and Toris had noticed that the front door was unlocked. He had threw the door open and ran, not as quickly as he hoped, as the snow was deep and he was rather weak. It was a pretty bad snowstorm, so the fact that he was barefoot and shirtless was a bit of a downside. He didn't mind, as the heavy snowfall made him harder to see. He was tired already, but he didn't care. He knew where he had to get to and he was going to get there no matter what. In the distant he could hear the angry calls of his tormenter, muffled by the howling wind. They alone almost made him turn around and walk back, out of fear; He couldn't, he was escaping, and he had come so far that he probably wouldn't make it through his punishment for that.

After what seemed like hours of running through the streets, getting a few odd looks from people, Toris finally found a neighbourhood that he recognised and gave a sigh of relief. A determined smile grew on his face as he ran, the first smile he had shown in a while. he could see the house of his friend just a few blocks away and he ran faster, making it to the door and pounding on it loudly.


	4. Chapter 4

Feliks covered his ears, the pounding on the door worsening his headache. He slowly stood up to open the door, screeching in surprise when the person who was knocking fell forward on him, both of them falling on the ground.

"What the hell was-" Feliks stopped mid-sentence when he saw just who had entered his house. It was definitely Toris, albeit missing a lot of his bodyweight and any semblance of happiness that ever existed within him, but what he was lacking in joy, he made up for with injuries.

"Toris?" he said quietly. Toris nodded, taking note that his friend seemed different somehow.

Feliks sat there, trembling for a few seconds, before bursting into tears. The tears weren't just over Toris coming back, he was crying over everything. Toris rubbed his hand on Feliks' back comfortingly, although Toris held in his tears. The brunet winced slightly as the salty tears fell into his open wounds, but he definitely wasn't complaining.

"Feliks... you have no idea how much I've missed you." He whispered to the other, letting him cry until he was ready to speak.

After a few minutes, Feliks looked up at him, his face a pitiful expression.

"Toris, I was so worried about you..." The Pole muttered, slowly standing up while keeping his arms around Toris. The two of them held each other quietly like this until Feliks noticed a tall figure standing in the open doorway.

"Toris.. did you think you could just run back to your little friend like that? You know that I am the only one you want..." It was the thick Russian accent of Ivan, a voice Toris had grown to dread. Feliks stepped away from his friend and stared up at the intimidating man.

"Get the fuck out of here..." he said, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Ivan simply laughed, pulling out a gun and pulling the trigger, the bullet going through Feliks' abdomen.

Feliks collapsed on the ground, blood flowing from the gunshot wound; In a sudden moment of bravery, Toris ran into the small kitchen and grabbed a sharp knife, stabbing at Ivan with unbelievable ferocity. As Ivan fell, Toris dropped the knife, shaking. His best friend and the source of all his suffering were both dying on the floor. he quickly grabbed the phone in this hands, which were covered in blood, and dialled the emergency number.


	5. Chapter 5

Toris sat in the chair by Feliks' hospital bed, waiting nervously for Feliks to wake up. The doctors had said that the blond was going to be just fine, and that the bullet hadn't damaged any major organs. Toris believed them, and he wasn't worried too much for Feliks; He felt a bit uncomfortable, however, knowing that Ivan was recovering in the exact same hospital. Well, maybe not the same part of it, but it was certainly a nasty thought. He slumped back in his chair.

Feliks blinked his eyes open slowly, looking around with a slightly confused expression before directing his attention to Toris, had bandages and stitches on his visible body.

"Hey Toris, are we dead?" He asked softly. Toris shook his head, a smile spreading on his thin lips when he noticed Feliks had regained consciousness.

"No Feliks, we're not dead." He reassured the other, taking his hand. _Feliks had definitely gotten a bit thinner, _Toris noted to himself, having not yet turned to look at Feliks. Feliks slowly pulled his hand away and his his arms under the covers.

"Ah, alright." He said quietly, not minding the lack of conversation. He had a feeling he would just say something stupid and screw it up anyway.

"Hey Feliks, do you think after you get out of the hospital, you could stay at my place for a bit?" Toris asked, not wanting to have to be by himself. Feliks' eyes widened a bit and he let out a soft sigh.

"Yeah, I'd love to." He muttered in response, glad to be able to spend more time with Toris.

* * *

Matthew adjusted his glasses on his face as he walked through the hallways of the busy hospital, glancing at the doors then back at his clipboards. Matthew never had good memory for room numbers. He finally found the one he was looking for at the end of the hall and pushed open the door gently, his entrance going unnoticed to the doctor in the room.

"Hello, is this the patient I was told to see?" he asked, looking over the unconscious man in the hospital bed, who was taking short breaths and was hooked up to an IV. Even when he was out, Matthew could still tell that this man was definitely a threatening person.

"Yes, this is the one. Charged with rape and kidnapping. You think you can handle him?" The doctor asked. Matthew thought for a moment before giving a hesitant nod.

"Yes, of course. I'll do my best I guess."

"Nonsense, you've been amazing with every other patient you've worked with, you've got this Matthew."

"Well... you can count on me, Dr. Kirkland." Matthew said with a forced smile, not calling him by his first name in return, that was just unprofessional.

"Good, I'll let you supervise him until he's awake, his records are on the bedside table." and with that, Matthew was alone.

He spent most of the night looking over Ivan's records, the odd fact being that he was quite lacking in them. Ivan had no school registration forms, no passport, no criminal record. All they had to go on was some basic pieces of ID. Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, this wasn't going to be easy.


End file.
